


We Have No Secrets

by CABenoit



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CABenoit/pseuds/CABenoit
Summary: Chris Martin seems like an ordinary but feminine boy who likes anime and his guitar. He is about to start junior high when unusual things start happening to his body.  With his best friends Dan and Meg, Chris seeks to find out what is going on with them.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)





	1. Smalltown Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is chapter one of a previously released novella. It is available on Amazon, but I figured there might be people who may not be okay with or able to use Amazon or be able to pay for the book. So I'm posting it here in chapters.

A clatter of percussion. Followed by a second clatter of percussion. Followed by a third, then a wobbly sound. The gentle squeak of feet on a hardwood floor as the music starts. My 6-year-old sister Andi waves her arms and moves her feet as she dances around. When Debbie Harry starts singing "The tide is high, but I'm holdin' on," my sister lip-syncs the lyrics. By the time she gets to the "Number one" part, my sister is bobbing her head back and forth, waving her long brown hair around. She looks like a tiny fashionista on a catwalk.

I watch her from my spot on the bed where I’m sprawled out with a book. The spectacle makes me laugh and roll my eyes. I try to hop back into Mordor, but my attention span is shot. I make the best of it and sit up on the edge of my bed to watch my sister in her pajamas dance in front of my open laptop. Eventually, I start waving my arms and start singing along to Debbie Harry. My sister beckons me to dance with her but I don't. I'm a little embarrassed to even be waving my arms around like a waving inflatable tube creature.

After the song ends, Andi wrinkles her nose at the introduction to "Angels On The Balcony", so she stops the music. "You know, you sing well. You'd be a great Blondie someday!" she tells me.

"Blondie is the name of the band, not the singer - and no, I wouldn't."

"Of course you would! Make your hair blonde and wear a black dress," Andi says while looking at the cover of the AutoAmerican album the music program put on my screen.

I get angry at her. "Boys don't wear dresses, Andi," I say glaring at her, laying back down with _Lord of the Rings._

"But it would look really pretty on you, Chris."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't you have someone else to bug, or are you going to harass me all day?"

Andi's hurt face is all the answer I need. I don't think I had been more annoyed with her. "God, I was just trying to have fun. I swear, you can't even get a good drink around here!" she says, shutting my door harder than normal.

I roll my eyes and try to get lost in Middle Earth again.

* * *

Later that night, I'm spending the night at Dan's house. We’re watching "Sailor Moon", although we're still only in the first season. We finish up the cursed bridal shop episode where they introduce Sailor Jupiter.

"God, that was funny!" Dan says.

"What's funny about it?" I ask. "Jadeite literally paralyzed them until Jupiter woke up. It seemed like a pretty serious threat to me."

There was probably no question as to who was the bigger Sailor Moon fan of the two of us. My stomach always hurt when we would get into discussions like this and it seemed particularly bad tonight.

"Yeah, but a _bridal_ shop? Seriously?"

"But, Dan, it was about using sex to seduce men," I say, deep in thought.

"Girls are scary," Dan says.

I scoff and wrinkle my nose. "I don't think they are. I think boys are the scary ones. Girls are nice... most of the time. Guys are just..." I wave my hand around trying to figure out what to say next.

"Really?" he asks, looking at me a little weird.

"Well, yeah."  
  


Dan and I had been best friends for the last few years of elementary school. We were very mismatched as he was more into sports and action films, while I was very much about music and magical-girl type anime. His mother didn’t seem to like me very much, but after talking to my parents, she at least seemed to be tolerant that I was her son’s best friend.

Our outlooks on life were also different. I tend to be pretty reserved and laid-back, and didn’t worry much about what other people thought. Dan is different from me in that he is more social and tended to lean toward other boys our age.

More recently, there has been this feeling I’ve noticed but couldn’t place my finger on. Dan is cute in a way. He’s no Tuxedo Mask, but the way the sun hit his hair – for example – made him look like a piece of art. The smile he had started to make me anxious and nervous. Every so often when I’m around him, my stomach starts to feel like it’s trying to fight its way out of my body.

But there are times when he opens his mouth that I just want to punch him. He can say some of the stupidest things sometimes. Like making fun of gay guys. He occasionally says “the f word,” as my father would call it. I hate it when he says that, most especially because of my own developing feelings for him. If society tells me I’m a boy and I happen to think another boy is nice or attractive, does that make me an “f word”?  
  


All while my mind is thinking this, we eventually decide to try out some new anime series on one of the streaming services. There's an older one about a science fiction pirate. I don't really understand it, but Dan guffaws his way through an episode. We compromise and watch "Attack on Titan" after that.

* * *

Mid-morning on Sunday finds me lying on my bed talking to my other best friend Meghan – or Meg for short – on the phone. If Dan is my opposite, then Meg is the closest thing I have to a twin. We’re both easygoing and have a way of living our lives that tell other kids we just don’t care.

Once we started 5th grade, she declared me her BFF. We both got some flack for that from the other kids since it was exclusively a term used for two girls that were like sisters. But we clearly don’t care because if I wasn’t hanging around Dan, I was usually hanging around Meg.

"Well, I just got lectured. Man, but adults are weird," she tells me.

"Why's that?" I ask.

"Okay, you know how my birthday is coming up?"

"Yeah." Duh. We’re nearly attached at the hip at school, so I know.

"Mom asked me if I wanted a party, and I told her I wanted a slumber party with my friends and all, right?"

"Okay," I follow.  
  


A bit of explanation is necessary here. When we first started to become friends 3 years ago, we had been hanging out and talking in her room. Her parents came home and she introduced me. After the introductions, they asked her to come with them to the living room. She later told me that her father said she wasn't to have anybody else in the house when they weren't around, and especially not a boy. Meg and I wondered why, but her parents were solid on this rule. Meg's mom seems to occasionally let it lapse – like the time her dad was out of town and we watched _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_ in their living room – but her dad is really strict with her about not having me in the house at all. So we frequently hang out on her porch even though it is so small as to be impractical when it rained or during winter time. The time between fall and spring we hang out mostly at my house, although I do tend to hang out with Dan more during the winter months.  
  


"So I wanted you to be there because, duh, you're my BFF and all!" Meg continues.

"Well, yeah... Oh.” I pause and sigh. “I think I can guess--"

"--what happened next? Oh, yeah," she finishes. "I don't know why I thought this was going to be any different than before. At least your parents are okay with us being friends."

"Yeah, but it sucks that I can't be there,” I sigh, get up from my bed and walk to my doorway. “Well, I can give you your gift at school... or would the kids still think we’re weird?" I roll my eyes because the other kids were just insane.

“Oh, my God, Chris! Who gives a flip if people think it's weird. They just don't get us. I don’t know what their problem is.” I can tell she’s exasperated.

“I know what you mean. Kids can be so mean sometimes,” I say while leaning against the doorway to my room. Craning my neck, I notice my parents and sister wrapped up in some film that I had no interest in.

I take a large breath and decide to go for broke. Walking back into my bedroom, I say in a quieter voice, “Listen, I... can I ask you to do a huge favor for me? Can you come over?”

“Sure. Why?”

“I need to ask you something,” I say, my mouth getting dry.

“I can ask mom. I’m pretty sure she’ll let me.” It feels like her mom ‘gets’ us, although her mom still has to defer to her dad when it comes to household rules.  
  


20 minutes later, Meg walks into my bedroom. A bundle of nerves, I ask her to shut the door.

“Won’t your parents think something’s up if I do that?” she says. We never shut the door when she came over because of that stupid “boy/girl” rule grown ups seem to pressure us kids with.

“No, they’re wrapped up in whatever film they’re watching. Did you see how much they noticed us when you came in the door?” They didn’t seem to hear us or even notice when Meg came in.

“True.” She crosses from the door to my bed and sits down. “So what’s up?” she asks with no hesitation.

“Okay, so you’re my best friend, right?” I start worrying about how to phrase what I was going to say. My stomach is a ball of snakes writhing.

“We’re not just _best_ friends, we’re BFF’s, remember? That means you’re stuck with me… forever,” she says in a fake creepy voice and smiles, which makes me smile a little.

“You won’t think I’m weird if I ask something, then?”

“Well, I’m pretty weird, too, so...” she shrugs. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be okay with it.

“All right, I’m going to trust you then.” My face goes through many expressions and my voice false starts while trying to find the words for what I had to tell her. Frustrated at my inability to use my words, I take my shirt off and look everywhere but at Meg.

“Oh... wow!” she says with a large pause between the words.

A few weeks ago, the area on my chest around my nipples started hurting, but I thought nothing of it at first. Maybe my shirt was just rubbing them the wrong way or something. A couple of weeks ago, I started to notice that they were sticking out. When I checked more, there were hard, sore round spots under them that felt like a doughnut that sunk in the middle. I looked the symptoms up on my laptop, and the only real possibility was something called “gynecomastia”, a fancy word for growing breasts. I freaked out, but was too frightened to tell anyone.

I began to wear loose and thicker shirts and more than one at a time. This was really awkward because summer was coming up and it was getting warmer. If I ended up with breasts, how would I survive the summer? I usually went to the swimming pool or rode my bike with Meg or Dan. People would laugh at me and make fun of me. The boy with boobs. Sweet creeping Jesus!

I finally look at her face and see her staring wide-eyed at my chest.

“Chris… I don’t know how to ask this but… why do you have nubbins?” she asks, sounding a bit uncertain herself.

“Wait. Nubbins?”

“Yeah,” she says standing up. “Can I..?” She holds her hands out to my chest.

I nod yes. “Uh… sure.” She very gently touches around the swelling surrounding my elevated nipple. I have to control myself and not jerk back like her hands are made of fire and burning me.

“What the heck are nubbins, then?” I ask.

“Well, it’s what happens before your boobs grow. But...” she pauses with a confused look on her face. “...you’re a _boy_ , right?”

“I _thought_ I was. But, Meg, these are _boobs_! What the hell am I doing with boobs if I’m a _boy_?”

She looks me in the eyes. “C’mon, let’s talk,” she says as she tosses my baggy shirt to me and I slip it back on. She sits back down on my bed and faces me.

“Alright. I need to tell you something and since you’re my BFF, I really _really_ hope you won’t hate me for saying this.”

“Okay,” I say, the snakes in my stomach now morphing into hot acid that slaps my throat with burning pain.

“Without a doubt, you have always seemed to be more of a girl than a boy. You haven’t really seemed like any other boy I know. To me, you’re my best girlfriend who just happens to be a boy. But… I’m really starting to think that you aren’t really a boy after all, especially if you’re starting to grow boobs.” We both pause, trying to let what she says sink in.

“Did your parents say anything about why they wouldn’t let you go to the sex talk last fall?” she asks me.

I had forgotten all about that. “No. Mom said she would talk to me later about it.”

“Did she?” Meg says, concerned.

“No.”

“Crap! I was hoping she would have by now.”

“So… back to the larger issue here. WHY do I have nubbins on my chest?”

Meg has a worried look on her face. “I don’t really know _why_ , Chris. But… look… you’ve _got_ to say something your folks! This isn’t the type of thing that’s just going to go away, you know.”

“But how do I even start to talk to them about this? They’re going to think there’s something wrong with me!” I was doing my best not to cry.

“Hey, there isn’t something _wrong_ with you, it’s just… unusual.” Meg attempts to reassure me.

“I don’t know what to do, Meg,” I says shuddering, tears falling from my eyes. She hugs me as I fall apart for a bit. She holds me and reassures me that everything is going to be alright.

* * *

Monday comes and I really don’t want to deal with school. I slog to the kitchen after mom knocks on my door to wake me up, grab a bowl with some cereal and milk and sit there munching away, trying to motivate myself to move. My stomach is still hurting – although less than before – and part of me is trying to make sense of what Meg said last night.

Maybe I’m _not_ a boy? Well, that would explain why I get along better with girls. Before this year, I generally didn’t get bullied much at school, but for some reason it has become a problem this past school year. Not as bad as Danny Roberts – the one out gay boy in school – has it. There was that time one of the guys threatened to beat me up, but I don’t think he would have done it.

Something about the line of thinking Meg brought up last night makes sense to me. I generally prefer my mom to my dad, although I thought that might be because technically he was my stepdad. Most of the boys other than Dan don’t really talk to me, but I didn’t really give that a second thought. I just figure it’s because me and Dan and Meg are all just weirdos.

Andi sits down at the table with dad helping her pour milk into the bowl while she holds onto it. Oh, to be six and not have to worry about all of this stuff would be wonderful! Dad walks into the kitchen to make his usual toast-and-veggie-burger breakfast.

My sister looks at me and cocks her head. “You okay?” she says with genuine concern on her face. My glare wanders to her, and it must scare her a little because her eyes get wide.

“Geez, sorry I asked, Pokey!” she mumbles while taking a bite of cereal.

I just stare at her. “What do you mean by _that_?” She nods at me and glances at my body. I notice the two points sticking out noticeably through my shirt and suddenly want to hide out of embarrassment. I move my left arm to cover them and snap at Andi.

“Mind your own business!” I say more angrily than I intend. I shovel more of the cereal into my mouth.

“What was _that_ for, young man?” I hear my father say while coming through to the dining room. I mentally roll my eyes.

“Chris is Pokey today!” Andi boasts loudly. My father stops and looks at me while setting his breakfast down on the table.

“Well, does that make me Gumby then?” he says and then laugh. Confused, Andi makes a noise like a question mark.

I shake my head. “I need to hop in the shower,” I say, hurrying out of the kitchen and away from my family.

I happen to overhear as I’m washing out my bowl, “Well, you were right. He does seem rather ‘pokey’ today, doesn’t he?” Well, crap!

I get to the bathroom and take my clothes off. I look at myself in the mirror. _Am I a girl or a boy?_ My parents have always said I was a boy. Sometimes while going out shopping with one parent or the other, I would get called “Miss” or “girl” but I didn’t correct it. Mom asked me once why I didn’t correct them, and I simply told her it didn’t bother me. I’m still me and it doesn’t matter if they think I’m a girl.

But _why_ doesn’t it bother me? I know Dan gets defensive about being seen as doing anything feminine or girlish. He has a sense of pride in being a boy. But what’s so great about being a boy? A lot of times, they just seem mean and angry. For the most part, their toys have guns, which I’ve never really liked. I have outright refused to play “war” or anything like that with most of my friends who were boys. The closest I’ve come is the swashbuckling-type light saber scenes in the Star Wars films.

I take a good look at my face: my dark brown eyes that look like they have no color in them. My long eyelashes. Shoulder-length hair the color of dark chocolate. I have my mother’s face. The scarlet points on my chest are sticking out like they’re accusing me of doing something wrong. _They hurt like hell too_ , I think to myself. I open a drawer and lay the rolled-up bandage and its clips on top of my shirts and outfit for school.

My body has always seemed pretty small and scrawny compared to other guys my age. I’ve always been a little behind the curve, but this was a whole other set of problems to deal with. Dan would never let me live it down if he knew I was getting breasts! Thinking about Dan made my stomach nauseated again. Part of me wants to open the lid of the toilet and see if I can vomit, but I really don’t want to miss school today. I hop in the shower to get ready for the day.

* * *

As soon as I see Meg on my walk to school, it’s all I can do to keep my composure.

“Oh, my god! You think your dad knows?” she asks when I tell her how my morning went.

“I don’t _know_! I mean, he could have just meant that I was angry… I hope..?” I phrase this as a question, but I know nobody can really answer it for me. I sigh loudly

Whispering to her as quietly as I could, I ask, “Are these things supposed to hurt so much?”

“They can, yes. Is it really that bad?” I nod. “You can take some Tylenol or something. That helps sometimes.”

“Do you have any?” I ask, hopeful.

“Let me check.” She opens her small backpack, pulls out a small white tube and hands it to me. “Take one at first and if it still hurts in an hour, take another. But only a couple in the morning and a couple after lunch if you need it.”

“How do you know about this stuff?” I ask, pocketing the tube.

“Well, I haven’t started developing yet, but a couple of my friends have. We talk about this kind of stuff to each other.”

“Really?” Meg nods.

“Yeah, it’s pretty… uh… it’s a regular thing.”

* * *

After an uneventful day at school, I get home with a smile on my face. Our teacher had mentioned during science today that there was going to be a meteor shower tonight that was going to be visible from our city. I am very anxious to see with my own eyes something that I had only really seen on television and in news reports. But I have to wait until it got dark.

When we’re done with dinner, I go to my room and look up some chords for the guitar. I had heard a snippet of a Fleetwood Mac song I knew earlier in the day and wanted to see if I could figure out how to play it. Once I see how easy the chords were, I grab my guitar – a small, purple model – from the corner of my room and take a pick out from the pockets on the guitar strap.

I check my fingering. F to G and back again. The chorus changes the fingering to A minor and alters the G chord very slightly. I start singing the lyrics in my slightly wispy register, and attempt to keep the rhythm steady while glancing at the words on my laptop. During the lower notes, I have trouble keeping in tune with Stevie Nicks. It’s easier to take the higher harmony I remember her singing near the end of the song.

When I finish, I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Looking to my doorway, I see that mom had been watching me while I was playing. She is smiling at me and clapped. I laugh at her and try not to feel embarrassed since she has heard me play every so often.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all week!” I say in a game-show voice, bow to her twice then start giggling.

“You forgot to close your door again, sweetie,” mom says, her smile still plastered to her face.

“I’m sorry, momma. I just… wanted to see if I could figure out how to play this.”

“Well, I’d say you did very well.”

“Thanks. I can’t sing quite as low as she can, though.”

“But you do have a good voice, Chris. Give it time to mature… but keep on practicing. Just… do it with your door shut next time, okay?” she says with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, ma’am.” Mom closes my door while I decide to give “Dreams” another try.

* * *

Just before the time I usually go to bed, I turn off all the lights in my bedroom, lay down and stare intently out the window. The meteor shower had also been mentioned on the national news, and mom said I could stay up and watch it as long as went to bed right after. I hadn’t seen as much as a ‘falling star’ before, and I’m excited to see what one looks like.

I stare intently at the star-filled sky, a strip of pale blue left where the sunset had been not too long ago. As I examine the stars, I start thinking about what Meg had said the night before. She was probably right: there wasn’t something _wrong_ with me, and it was just what my body was doing. God, if I could only just completely _be_ a girl instead of a boy, maybe things would fall into place. Maybe I could understand why people consider me weird. Maybe the kids wouldn't tease me as much. Maybe the harassment would ease up. So many maybes, but no answers for sure.

What about Dan, though? The feeling in my stomach is like a cannon ball being tossed around on the deck of a pirate ship during a typhoon. What _about_ Dan, exactly? Well, he can be beautiful although he can also be a jerk sometimes. I miss us joking around and stuff like when we were kids, but maybe that’s just part of getting older. He used to try to tickle torture me, but he’s lost interest in it lately. My face starts to burn just thinking about him.

And then it happens. A streak that looks like part of a firework starts to fall from top to bottom. I hold my breath without thinking about it.. I think about Dan. I think about being a girl. A second meteor falls a little to the left of the previous one. _I really_ _ **am**_ _a girl after all, aren_ _’t I?_ I think to nobody as I watch the lights descending in the distance. _Well, even if my body isn_ _’t, my_ _ **mind**_ _is. And that_ _’s the only part that matters, isn’t it?_

A third one falls, my breath comes out in a rush and I whisper, “Oh, wow!” Every few seconds, another one falls. Nature’s light show continues on for about 20 minutes. Wrapped up in the mystery of the moment, I feel something magical in the air. I stare out the window thinking to myself, “ _I_ _’m a girl and that’s perfectly okay_.”


	2. Your Wildest Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Chris starts realizing how rough being in their shoes can be, a medical emergency forces them to be hospitalized.
> 
> Rated "T" for talk about sex and sexual parts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is chapter two of a previously released novella. It is available on Amazon, but I figured there might be people who may not be okay with or able to use Amazon or be able to pay for the book. So I'm posting it here in chapters.

When I wake up the next morning, the meteor shower feels like something that I had dreamed about and wasn’t actually real after all. I realize I had probably got caught up in the moment was all. The things on my chest don’t seem to be as painful this morning, so I figure the worst of it is all in my mind. If nobody else notices, then maybe it’s not a real problem after all, I think.

The following school day plods along as it usually does. Thankfully, summer is around the corner. Later this week, we’re going to graduate from elementary school and get dismissed for summer vacation. The three long months of summer stretches out ahead of us like warm taffy. Until the reality of junior high hits in the fall, that is. Junior High is going to be a whole other experience to look forward to. I’m looking forward to spending time being lazy with my family and best friends.

* * *

During recess, Meg and I are sitting on a spot of grass next to a group of trees watching Dan and some of the other boys play football. I never liked playing football. It seemed like a good way to get hurt.

My stomach was hurting again. I feel like a motor that’s only running half the time. Meg, of all people, had to tell me to hurry up while we were walking to the lunch room together, and she’s pretty slow herself. I really didn’t feel like eating anything, but I was aware that I had to do so because otherwise I’d be starving by mid-afternoon. I had a small piece of fish, some green beans and some tapioca pudding. I only made it through the fish and half of the green beans before my stomach turned sour. Thankfully, I had gotten water instead of milk to drink, which would have made my stomach ache even worse.

So instead of playing, we sit there watching the boys tossing around the football and not talking about Sunday night. We talk about music and the Star Wars cartoon we both watch. We argue about how the early Empire managed to track down the last of the Jedi while watching the boys. The conversation has a lull in it and Meg’s gaze goes from me to Dan then back to me.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Meg asks, interrupting the study of my best friend.

“Sure. What’s up?” I turn to her.

“This is going to sound weird, but… do you… _like_ Dan?” She emphasizes the word ‘like’.

“Well, of course, I like him. He _is_ my other best friend, Meg,” I say and let out a nervous laugh.

“Chris. I mean, do you _like him_ like him?” A wave of nausea hits and bubbles up to my throat, making me cough a little.

“I’m not sure I get what you mean.” I cough again to try to clear my throat a bit.

“Do you like him as _more_ than just a friend?” she says with doubt in her eyes. I can never look into those eyes and lie. It would be like lying to myself.

“Uhhh...” I sit there stunned for a moment, wondering if she’s psychic. Should I keep my thoughts from the other night to myself? I don’t know that it’s in me to lie, especially to my BFF. _Well, no more putting this off, I suppose,_ I think to myself as I glance at Dan again.

“Well… what...” I hesitate. “What gave me away?” Her eyebrows raise in surprise.

“When you and I aren’t hanging out, you two are close to being inseparable, for starters. But when you look at him lately… while he’s not looking… you get this goofy grin on your face. I’ve seen that goofy grin on other girls’ faces,” she stops and corrects herself, “other _people_ _’s_ faces. Sorry. I’ve probably had it on my own face a time or three.”

“Like Jeff Baines?” I say, elbowing her in the ribs.

“God, no! NOTHING like Jeff Baines! He’s an oaf!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t find out that he was until you _finally_ talked to him!”

“Don’t change the subject!” she says as the bell ending recess sounded.

“God, can we just talk about this stuff later tonight?” I say as we got up and start walking toward the school.

* * *

I never hear her reply because Dan catches up with us. The only way I know he found us was because he jumps on my back like I’m giving him a piggy-back ride. I promptly fall face-first to the ground from the sudden weight on my body.

Dan pulls me up off the ground. “Come on, Chris! Straighten up and fly right, son! Last one to the building is a loser!” he says, then sprints towards the door.

“Uh-uh, man!” I yell back. I start to sprint after him. Since I weigh less, I eventually catch up and then run past him. I loudly slap the door frame with the palm of my hand as another wave of nausea hits.

“I win, sucka!” I say as Dan runs the last few steps behind me. I let out a whoop of delight as I jump up and down, celebrating my victory over my best friend. The nausea starts to make my stomach spin like a merry-go-round, and my intestines feel like they were dancing a rumba. I grab my belly and hunch over a little.

“You okay, man” Dan says, concerned.

“I… I think so, but I need to use the restroom, though.” Warm pain starts around my belly button area as we walked towards the restrooms.

Meg comes up behind Dan and grabs his arm. “God, I’m surprised you didn’t break his freaking back! What the heck is _wrong_ with you?” she is almost yelling at him.

I roll my eyes. “Geez, Meg! He didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” Which seems to contradict my actions since I was hunched, almost completely doubled over.

Meg looks at me. “Jesus, Dan, what if you had ruptured something?”

“I’m fine!” I say a little louder than I intended and straighten myself up in an attempt to ignore the pain.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the nurse?” Dan says.

“It’s probably just lunch, is all.”

“I don’t think the fish was all that fresh,” Meg chimes in using a sing-songy voice.

* * *

A minute later, Dan and I get to the restroom and a couple of boys in our grade follow us in. Dan and I take stalls next to each other. Although I don’t let on, by this time, waves of pain are emanating from my belly button. It feels like that scene in that old movie “Alien” where one of the title characters comes out of the person’s chest. If I were host to an alien, I’d name it Norman. He would be purple and would live in a tiny doghouse and…

While my mind had focused on this silly little train of thought, I close the stall door, pull my pants down and sit on the toilet. I sensed immediately that something is wrong. I look down and have trouble understanding what it is that I was seeing.  
  


In my briefs, there is a fair amount of blood. I look into the toilet bowl and there is blood. Quite a bit of it. I look at my privates and could see that blood was coming out. What the hell was happening to me?

My heart beat is like a jackhammer in my chest and I let out a gasp. Quietly I say, “What the..?” I sit there trying to make some sense of what is going on with me.

“What the hell..?” I ask to no one.

“You okay over there?” Dan says jovially in the stall next to me.

“Uh...” How do I respond to this, exactly? _‘Well, there appears to be a large amount of blood coming out of my body, but everything is peachy keen other than that!’_

“No...” I manage to say. “No… I am definitely… _not_ okay, Dan. I… uh...” Panic starts creeping into my voice. “Can… Can you get the nurse?” I say, fighting the very strong urge to cry.

“The _nurse_? What’s going on? You okay?” he asks, concerned.

“Uh… no… uh… Can you get her here… please?” I pleading.

“Sure, man. Uh, let me… uh...” I hear the sound of the toilet next to me flushing, then the buzzer for us to get back into class.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” he says then pauses a moment. The bathroom door sounds like it opens then closes, and I hear echoes of shoes – presumably Dan’s – down the hall.

* * *

What feels like a great deal of time later, the door sounds like it opened and a distinctly female voice speaks my name. “Chris? Are you in here?” the voice asks, uncertain.

“H- he was in the stall next to me,” I hear Dan say. “He sounded really scared.”

“I’m here,” I say. A moment later there is a knock on the stall door. The nurse asks me what was going on.

“Well… uh...” Something inside my mind breaks and I starts crying. “I… I’m bleeding.”

“Bleeding? Where?” the nurse asks and I heard Dan mutter something.

“My… my...” I pause and think of how to say it. “...uh, privates.”

“How badly? Did you cut yourself?” she asks, sounding a little angry.

“I don’t know how badly, but I don’t think I cut myself,” I say through tears.

“Would you be okay with me opening the door and letting me see? I have to know what I’m dealing with before we can do anything else. Okay?”

“Uh-huh,” I say, opening the lock on the door. She very slowly opens the door, looking me in the eye as it lazily swings open.

The nurse is a short, stocky woman with curly red hair and a very pleasant face. I’d only had to deal with her when I’ve had migraines and needed to lay down because of them.

“I want you to understand that I’m going to look at your privates just to see what’s going on, okay?” she says reassuringly. I nod with tears running warmly down my face. She looks down between my legs and her expression changes to one of confusion.

“Chris, can you do me a favor and open your legs a little more for me? I want to make sure that I’m seeing this right.” I do as she asks. She goes a little pale and then nods. She angled her head around the stall door and talks to Dan.

“Daniel, can you have Ms. Wiggins call for an ambulance and tell them to meet us in the bathroom number listed above the door. Then bring Principal Danvers back here and stand at the bathroom door. Make sure nobody else enters unless it’s the paramedics. Repeat that back to me.” Dan does so and I hear the sound of my best friend’s shoes echo down the hall again.  
  


“How are you feeling, other than scared?” she asks me.

“Not good.” I wobble a little on the toilet.

“All right. Do you have pain in your belly?”

“Yeah… but… how...” I stammer out.

“Just a hunch.”

* * *

A few moments later, I hear Principal Danvers’s voice but don’t see him since the bathroom door blocks my view. The nurse had to move further into the stall because I started swaying a little and she holds my shoulder to steady me and keep me from falling over.

“What is it, Meredith?” the principal asks.

“Well, there’s heavy bleeding from her genitals, and I think we need to... get them to the ER,” she finishes.

“Okay, Marian's called 911 by now. I'll wait for them out front. I'll have Dan keep watch until the ambulance gets here.”

The nurse nods at him. “Sounds good. I'll stay here with Chris and make sure they’re okay.”

“Okay,” Principal Danvers said.

“I'm scared,” I say to her, my voice starting to raise a bit.

“I know, sweetie.”

“What's happening to me? You said 'her'?”

“Sorry, that was a slip-up on my part.”

“Did you say that because I wished I was a girl?” I say as the room gently swirled around.

“What?” Her voice shakes a little with the exclamation.

“I wished that I was a girl last night. Did that make this happen?”

“No, no, no, sweetie. Wishing doesn't...” The nurse's voice and my vision both suddenly fade as I black out.

* * *

My awareness of things around me came and went for a very long while. The first thing I remember is being on a stretcher and lifted out of the bathroom with Dan alongside me. I love you, I think.

“I love you too, man. Tell your folks...” Then silence and darkness again.

The second flash was the feeling of hands pushing on my chest. I cough and my face is gently moved to the side. After that, I hear someone say they were relieved. Then blankness again.

In the third one, I am going through a white hall where the lights are too bright. My first instinct is to shield my eyes with my arm, but it refuses to move and I am having trouble breathing. Then a long period of blankness.


	3. What I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having had a terrifying experience, Chris wakes up in the hospital. A lot of history is explained, and decisions have to be made.

I am in that space between being asleep and awake. Like on a long weekend when you have no plans, but you can feel the sunlight on your face trying to wake you up Saturday morning.

I think to myself, _so what was that all about?_

_No idea._

_That was a lot of blood, though._

_Maybe I died and am in heaven… or hell… or somewhere else… purgatory, maybe?_

_Should I try to open my eyes and see what’s going on?_ I paused for a few moments.

_Well, let’s just do it, then._

My eyes open, but I don’t move my body. I can feel that I’m propped up in a hospital bed, because I can see a white, corkboard-style ceiling. I can tell it’s daytime because I can see tones of sunlight reflected on the walls and ceiling. I hear various machines beeping in the background and the gentle murmur of people talking at a distance away. One part of me just wants to close my eyes and wish all of this away. Maybe I wish hard enough, I could wake up in my own bedroom again before this madness started. Another part of me, though, doesn’t want to run. It wants to figure out what happened to me and what all of this means. My mind wanders for a while.

***

I’m still staring off into space when a voice to my right says, “Hey, there.” I turn to my right and see a young brunette woman that I’m guessing is a nurse. “How are you feeling, Chris?” she asks me as she starts checking the equipment.

“I’m--” I stop and clear my throat because my voice is groggy. “Okay, I guess,” I say, a little more like myself. “What’s going on?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That’s for the doctor to tell you,” she says as she continues to examine the equipment I’m hooked up to. A couple of different tubes lead from the equipment to my right arm.

“O- Okay,” I say as she writes something down.

“It sounds like things are okay with you, so I wouldn't worry about it too much, alright?” she says with an oh so cheery smile on her face.

“Sure,” I say, a little uncertain. “Are my parents around?”

“Your mom has been here for a few hours, but I think she went to get some lunch.”

“'kay. Thank you,” I say with a genuine smile on my face.

“No problem. If you need anything, buzz the nurse's desk,” she says as she leaves. I lay my head back on the bed with my eyes open.  
**

A few minutes later, mom walks into the room with what looks like a plastic grocery bag with a couple of things in it. She sees me sitting up and awake, puts the bag down onto a side table and gives me a gentle but firm hug.

“Oh, thank God, Chris! We’ve been so worried about you!” she says.

“I know, momma. I’m worried too,” I said, returning her embrace as best as I could. She lets me go and stands in front of me a little embarrassed.

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you would be,” she says and grows quiet.

“Is dad at home with Andi, then?” I ask.

“Yes. When I tell them you’re awake, you know they’re going to want to see you. Andi’s been… asking about you,” her voice falters again and she appears to want to look at the machines I’m hooked up to for some reason.

“Momma… what happened to me? There was so much… blood… back at school and...”

“Well, I… I’d much rather get the doctor and have her explain it to you.” I sense that she’s afraid. I can hate that I can tell that but not know what it is.

“Why can’t _you_ tell me, mom?” My voice raises a little bit, showing her my irritation.

“Sweetie, it’s a little...” A much longer pause this time. “Look, let me find the doctor, and I’ll be back, okay?” She grabs the grocery bag and walks out the door while I’m left to my thoughts yet again.  
  


***

A longer time later, another female voice wakes me up from my shallow nap. “Martin?” she says, inquisitively. I open my eyes and there is a tall Hispanic woman in a lab coat reading a metal folder. She looks up at me from her clipboard.

I say, “Yes?” as my mother enters the room.

“Okay, good. Are we waiting for your husband, Mrs. Martin?” she asks my mother.

“No… we don’t have to. I mean, I’ve already told him what the situation is.” So everybody knows but me? That doesn’t seem fair!

“Alright. Well, Doctor Halliday should be with us soon.” The woman’s attention shifts from mom to me. “Chris, I’m Doctor Cruz. I lead a panel of medical professionals that specialize in what are commonly called intersex conditions. Before we go into what we’ve found out, I need to ask you some questions that would help us out, okay?” she says, a slight smile on her face.

I nod. “Okay, I’m… yeah.”

“Great. Now, first of all, these questions are a bit personal in nature, so would you like your mom to stay here or wait out in the hall?”

“Mom?” I ask and look at her.

“Well… I know some of what she’s going to ask about, but I’m not sure how you’ll answer them. Whatever you’d like, Chris.”

“All right. Would you be okay with staying?” I ask, pleading a little with my eyes. “I’d much rather not be left alone again right now.”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” she says quietly and holds my hand

“Okay,” I look at the doctor. “Go ahead”

“First of all, had your school had the talk where they separate the boys and girls and talk about what happens during puberty?”

“Yes,” I say and felt a little embarrassed. “They did.”

“So you might already know that you were different in regards to your privates, then?” the doctor asks.

“No. I didn’t go. Mom wouldn’t let me and didn’t sign the letter. You said you would would explain it to me, Mom!” I say, angry again and staring daggers at my mother. Both of us look to my mother who looks like she wants to be anywhere but here.

“I… I’m sorry that I never got around to talking to you about it, Chris. I kept meaning to, but time just… got away from me.” She looks upset and Dr. Cruz looks a little frustrated as well.

“Okay,” Dr. Cruz continues, clearly not wanting to get in the middle of such a sticky family situation. “Have you had any migraines or headaches.”

“Yes”

“Roughly when did they start?”

“Last fall, I think,” I look at mom, who nods in agreement.

“How frequently do you get them?”

“I’m… not sure. Most of the time I’m fine but sometimes have, like, 2 or 3 within a week.”

“Has the school mentioned this to you at all, mom?”

“Yes,” mom replies.

“Okay. What about an increased frequency of stomach aches or nausea?”

“Yes,” I say, getting anxious. It dawns on me that this leads to something.

“What about any twinges or pain in your chest?”

I freeze in silence. “Ummm...” I frantically grasp for words. “Yes,” I simply reply, looking away from the doctor’s face in shame.

“Okay. Mom, remember we did notice Tanner Stage II, which goes along with the other thing we talked about.”

Mom nods and says “Yes,” in agreement. What ‘other incident’?

“Okay,” Dr. Cruz says, which is then followed by a knock at the door. Another woman, shorter and with blond hair, appears in the doorway also in a long white coat. “Doctor Cruz?” she asks to the other person in a long, white coat.

“Yes,” Dr. Cruz says. “Good to see you, Annie! How have you been?”

“Been well, Sarah. So this is Chris Martin, no middle initial?” she asks, nodding in my direction.

“Yes, it is. Your timing is perfect, by the way.”

“Great,” the blond woman says, shutting the door behind her.

Doctor Cruz says, “All right. Chris, we can let you know what’s going on, but I want to ask you... would you rather hear the medical stuff from me first, or the personal stuff from your mom?”

I look at mom, who doesn’t seem to be able to look me in the eye. “Mom..?” I say, a bit stunned. “Mom!” I raise my voice and try to get her to meet my eyes. “Please… tell me what’s going on?” Dr. Cruz sighs but doesn’t say anything. Mom nods and both doctors take a seat in a couple of the chairs in the room.

***

My mother, her short and stout frame trembling in fear, seems at a loss for words. I know that she has problems dealing with life sometimes. A few times it’s gotten so bad that she rarely leaves the house. Her dark brown (almost black) hair falls down to her shoulders and has a slight wavy curl. It frames her round face and big brown eyes that, until recently, had been surrounded by glasses. She recently had laser surgery to fix her vision.

I analyze my mother in this moment of quiet and wonder what she is hiding from me. I’m more than a little concerned because, while I have seen her scared, it’s rarely been directed at me. Part of me worries that I may have done something wrong without meaning to. Part of me wonders if our family will be the same after this moment. What will happen to us, to me?

She takes a very long time thinking and opening then closing her mouth before finally explaining how I came to be here.

“Chris, before I say anything, I want you to know that I never meant to hide anything from you. Dealing with any of this... _sex_ stuff isn’t an easy thing for me, and I’m really sorry that it’s taken this long for you to find out. This is mostly my fault and I am so very sorry about this.” She looks down at her hands and walks to the end of my bed.

**

“You remember that when you’ve asked about your father, I hadn’t been able to tell you anything?” Randy, the man that I know as my father since age 5 is, in reality, my stepfather, which is a fact I’ve known as far back as I can remember. After my sister Miranda – although everyone calls her Andi – was born, I asked mom about my stepfather, and she confessed that he wasn’t my biological father. I asked about my own father but she never gave me an answer. Every time I would ask her after that, she would avoid answering or pretend that she didn’t hear me. It finally got to the point around age 9 that I stopped asking.

I nod, acknowledging my mother’s comment.

“Well, the reason for that was that… your father was… very abusive to me, but never to you. He liked to hit me a lot and blamed me for what happened when you were born. He… hurt me and… it made things more difficult to deal with considering your circumstances.” I gasp and cover my mouth with my hands.

“Oh, momma. I’m so sorry. I had no clue.”

“I know,” she says, patting my leg. “I know, sweetie.”

“So… what happened to me then?”

“Well… when you were born, they… had trouble figuring out if you were… a boy or a girl. There was something that might have been a vagina, but it also looked like a p-- a penis,” Mom stammers out the last word. “They wanted to run tests and there was the possibility of surgery to see what was going on, but your father… He was one of those men who always needed to have control of the situation, and you… weren’t a situation that he could control.”

“Sounds like he was a bit scared it,” I say, thinking out loud.

“He probably was, hon. He had told them under no circumstances were they going to try to take his son away from him. They hadn’t even had time to schedule testing for you, but come hell or high water, he was going to have his son to carry on his name and all that...” she pauses for a couple of moments.

“Momma, what happened to him?”

“Well, he was into base jumping… off of cliffs and had made a pretty good living creating videos of it. But this was also back before the technology was really available to keep it as safe as it is now. He was in mid-jump when something happened… either the wind shifted on him or he just plain lost control of where he was going. They told me it happened pretty quickly. Although I hated him in a way, I’m still glad he didn’t suffer much when he died.”

“Wow,” I say, a little overwhelmed by the information mom was giving to me. “Momma, I want to talk with you about my dad and learn more about what he was like. But,” I glance at the doctors, “I need to know what’s going on with me. Can we… talk about him some more in the future, mom?” Mom nods.

Smiling, Doctor Cruz says, “I’m glad that you two have such open communication.”

“What’s funny is that we generally don’t,” I say and look at mom, who nods in agreement with me.

“Well… in… any case,” Doctor Cruz says, a bit unsure.

***

“Ready for the medical stuff?” she asks. I nod yes.

“Well… on the physical end of it… there is a condition called de la Chapelle syndrome, or what is called XX male syndrome in layman's terms. People that are diagnosed with this have genes that are female, but also have what's called the SRY gene, something normally found in males. The symptoms are usually small testes and some level of gynecomastia, or breast tissue.

“But what we're dealing with in regards to you is different, Chris. The panel I work with consulted with other doctors in the field and we have come up with a theory… nothing definitive since we haven’t really had a chance to ask you about testing. We’ve told your parents what I'm about to tell you, and they've left the decision up to you as to whether or not to run the tests. Again, this is mostly theory and we’ll find out if we’re right as we go along.” Dr. Cruz takes a deep breath.

“Your mom said early in her pregnancy, your parents thought they had twins. When your mom was close to the 3-month mark, her doctor said there was only one heartbeat, ergo one baby. So they figured her doctor just made a mistake during the first visit. We think it could have been fetal re-absorption, meaning that you had a brother or sister while you were still in your mom's womb that your body absorbed before you were born.

“Genetically, you are as female as any of us,” she says motioning to mom and the other doctor. “But either you or your unborn twin also had de la Chapelle syndrome, which allowed your body to attempt to develop as some type of male. Usually that doesn't allow for Müllerian tissue which – in simple terms – creates the female reproductive system before you’re born. We believe that situation created a mixture of chromosomes called chimerism that allowed parts of your body to remain XX female, and other parts to be XX male with the SRY gene.” Dr. Cruz takes a breath, stops for a moment then continues, although she begins to read from the metal folder more than she did before.

“When you came in, you had massive hemorrhaging out of your vagina. As strange as this might sound, you were getting your first period when you came in. However, there was excessive blood loss so we had to give you a transfusion. We’re trying to look into what caused it and we’re a little concerned about what happens when you get your period again.” Dr. Cruz stops, looks at Dr. Halliday and nodded.

“Okay. Um… what’s a period?” Both of the doctors looked at each other then one looks at me and the other at mom. _Oh, God. Did I say something wrong?_

“You seriously didn’t talk to her?” Dr. Cruz asks mom. Mom nods no. Dr. Cruz looks to the ceiling as if to ask ‘Why me?’” After having it explained to me, I understood the basic concept of menstruation and the fact that a majority of women everywhere on Earth go through it seemed to amaze me.

“So what I went through normal… for a _girl_?” I ask, still in a bit of amazement. Dr. Cruz says it is. “Welcome to the sisterhood!” she says with a smirk on her face.

The doctor to my left asks, “Before we go on, do you have any other questions for Dr. Cruz about the physical stuff?”

I nod. “I have tons of questions, but... I’m really just… so much information.”

“Yes. I can imagine,” Dr. Halliday says. “Well, let’s switch topics then.”

“Although what I’m about to ask you may be embarrassing, I want you to be honest with us. We need to find out what you want before we set a course of treatment. There are no right or wrong answers here, only your honest-to-goodness feelings, okay?” I nod. She pauses for a moment and looks at the other doctor before addressing me.

“Do you feel that you’re a boy or a girl?"

***

In that instant, the world stops for me.

From what they were saying, my body already is female. Random scenes from my past started to make more sense and have more context. Birthday parties where I felt out of place and frustrated for not being included with other girls. Having to wear a scratchy suit for my uncle’s wedding and absolutely hating it.

Playing on the playground with a girl and having her mom yell at us because… because _why_ , exactly? Well, I couldn’t understand why I was being treated differently by grown ups. Why was it bad that I wanted a dress like my friend had? Fragments of memories started floating back to me, most of them without context.

One memory rang through as clear as a bell: when I was 8, my father and I were shopping for school clothes for 3rd grade. He asked me what I wanted, and I saw the prettiest top. I pointed it out to him, and he said, “No, I don't think we can do that, slugger. That's for little girls, and you're a little boy.” I started to have a temper tantrum in the middle of the store, so my father did this thing he used to do when I was really young. He took me out of the seat in the shopping cart and laid me on the ground while I yelled and screamed, and he just stood there trying to calm me down. When it had slowed down a little, he asked, “Are you done?”

“Can I get the shirt?” I asked hopefully.

“No, I'm sorry. I can't,” he said with embarrassment and regret on his face. “If you've calmed down now, can we get your clothes, now?” I gave in, but was sulking the rest of the trip.

Being uncomfortable around boys and being friends with girls. The boys at school ignoring me a lot of the time and everyone thinking I was weird when I was just being me. Instead of being treated like an alien, could I just be _myself_? Could my wish from the meteor shower really have come true? Could I actually be the type of person I thought I was?

But what would I be giving up? What about my family and friends? Would my friends still even _be_ my friends after all of this? I mean, I know mom loves me no matter what, and I'm fairly sure my father and sister will as well, but...

The boys would tease me. They may say that I wasn't good enough at being a boy, so I changed over to a girl. I wish I could predict how life was going to turn out for me! I need a crystal ball and the ability to see other lands... If only... but for now, I have to deal with the now...

***

“So...” I finally say to the doctors. “…my body's female for sure?” Doctor Cruz nods.

"Wow." I sigh, then start shaking out of fear and being nervous. “Well, it explains a lot. I don't really think… I dunno...

“I should probably tell you. The night before the bathroom thing happened... when the meteor shower happened, I… wished I was a girl.” I stop and stare out into nothing, deep in thought. The doctors both stare at each other, then Doctor Cruz writes some more in the metal folder.

I break out of my train of thought. “So... I actually got my wish then? I really _am_ a girl?” I say with a smile on my face, looking at Dr. Halliday.

She has a small smile on her face. “I tell you what, Chris. We are going have lots of time to talk and make sure that you're certain that this is what you want. I'm a psychologist at the hospital and we'll get together a couple of times a week during your stay here so we can make sure you're okay. All right?”

I nod and start to cry, exhausted by so much new information. Doctor Halliday holds my hand and rubs it reassuringly. “Why are you crying? You're getting what you wished for, right?”

I nod. “But mom... you won't have a son anymore! Won't you miss him? Would you hate me if he's gone?” I say with tears in my eyes. I close my eyes and another hand appears, this time on my upper arm.

“Sweetie,” I hear my mom's voice as she sweeps me into her hug. “I don't care if you're my son or my daughter as long as you're healthy and alive.” I look up at her and continue crying as she hugs me.

***

A few days later, I hear “Hey, rock star!” in a small voice from the doorway. Blearily, I peer at the doorway and there is my 6-year-old sister Andi wearing sunglasses with star-shaped frames and my stepfather right behind her.

“Hey, cool kid! You’re as stylish as usual, huh?” I say. She looks up at dad and said, “Can I give her a hug, daddy?” I was stunned at the use of “her”, but ignored it as best I could. Dad looks at me, and I nod at him that it was okay.

“I don’t know if... your _sister_ is allowed to have children on the bed,” Dad told her.

“Only if you promise not to jump, okay?” I told her.

“I won’t. I _promise!_ ” Andi says emphatically. Dad fights against it, but with two against one - especially when one is a pleading (and slightly spoiled, if I’m to be honest) 6-year-old girl - his fighting doesn’t last long. Before I know it, I have Andi giving me a hug and the sloppy affectionate kiss that only children can give. I give her a kiss on the cheek right back as she snuggles in my arms. I decide not to fight it as I had so many times before.

“So,” I say to my father with raised eyebrows, “You guys already told her, huh?”

“Yeah. Andi badgered your mom a little, but I think we both decided it was probably for the best. Besides, it could be better for her to have an older sister than an older brother.”

“Well, I wasn’t really much of an older brother, to be honest with you.”

“No, you were alright,” Andi says.

“Well, but I _was_ a boy and _now_ I’m a girl. Are you okay with that, Andi?”

“Of course! Being a girl is _awesome!_ ” she says, standing on the bed and trying to dance. I have to laugh at her excitement, though, as dad picks her up off of the bed and plops her back down on the ground.

“And with that answered… are you going to be okay having another daughter, Daddy? I mean, I know I wasn’t the most manly son or anything.”

“Well, it’s not like you got in trouble or anything. You never really were a problem child. You’ve always been pretty quiet,” Dad says. “If you’re worried about the whole ‘carrying on the name’ thing, I’ve never really cared about it. All I hope for is that you two are happy and healthy. As long as that happens, I’ll be fine with whatever else we have to deal with.”

I nod. “Okay,” I say. “I just wanted to make sure.” He bends over and gives a hug of his own.

“I love you, Daddy!”

“I love you, too, honey!”

***

Between myself, my parents and the panel of doctors, it became obvious to everyone that I was very much a girl and a course of treatment was laid out by the doctors. Although the decisions were made pretty quickly, the surgeries themselves involved a lot of work by the doctors and surgeons. This meant my healing was going to be pretty slow and that I was going to be stuck in the hospital for a while. There was more poking and prodding thank I care for before any surgery happened. It's a good thing I'm not all that scared of needles like I was when I was a kid. Thank goodness for my friends, who made the hospital stay a little more bearable, both via social media and a couple of hospital visits!

***

A week after the surgeries, I'm sitting in bed reading a book when I hear a knock on my door. I look up and Dan is standing there. He runs over to me and nearly knocks himself over the railing to my bed while trying to give me a hug. That was one of the best hugs I've ever had! My heart nearly stops from excitement.

He suddenly lets me go and says, “Omigosh! I'm sorry, ma--- uh, Chris! I didn't break anything, did I?” The worry on his face tells me it's been something he's been wanting to say for a while, but I return it with a huge smile.

“No, I'm healing up pretty well,” I say, letting out a laugh.

“Well, good,” he says.

There is an awkward silence as he props himself against the doorway facing me.

“So... is, is your mom here?” I ask, attempting to be nonchalant.

“Yeah, she's out in the hallway talking to your dad.”

“Ah. Okay. Did they explain what happened?”

He nods. “My mom tried to... but she’s just… frustrating.”

I nod and say okay. Then another awkward silence as we avoid looking at each other. I decide to discuss the elephant in the room.

“Listen... Dan... the doctors have told me... that I'm actually a girl. Like my body is… a girl’s.” I stop and try to figure out what to say next.

“That’s what mom said. It's just funny.” I shoot him a look of concern. “No! Not ‘funny’ like I'm laughing at you or anything, just that... you know..." He looks at the floor, avoiding my eyes completely. "It’s like those anime shows where the girls magically transform into superheroes and... now...”

“And now I've ‘transformed' into a girl?” I say with a smirk. “I guess it _is_ pretty strange, huh?”

“Yeah… except no. I mean, you appear to be the same as always, is all.” Another long pause, then Dan chuckles slightly.

I finally speak up. “Can I ask you something, and if I'm... if I'm off-base here... I mean..." I take a breath and collect my words. "Where do we go from here, Dan? I mean, I still want you to be my friend even if I'm a girl.” Dan hesitates a moment.

“I know, Chris. I'm just... my mom... doesn't really think what you’re going through is real. She thinks you just wanted to not be a gay boy.”

“Really?” My mouth forms an 'o' of surprise because she has always been really nice to me.

“Yeah, but…” Dan becomes a little more animated. “But I was there and... I was the one who ended up flushing the toilet you had been in, and that was a lot of blood, ma--- Chris! Damn! Sorry, I keep slipping up on that.”

I stop and think about this for a second. “Dan, you know you can say the word 'man' around me. It doesn't bother me or anything,” I say gently and he gives a smile in return. “But I guess this means sleepovers are out of the question now, huh?”

“I guess so.” We both chuckle then another long pause until Dan breaks it. “Can... I ask you something? Because Mom won't tell me much more than 'he says he's a girl now' and I... just want to know what's up.”

“Sure. Ask away, mi amigo.”

“So you... like... have all the… stuff like other girls do? Like the… ‘down there’… stuff, then?”

I nod. “That's what they've told me. The whole system is kinda small and not working very well, but it's there. According to the doctors what... happened at school... was, um... my first... _period_...” I say with a heavy sigh and suddenly find that I can’t look him in the eye.

It’s my first time using the word to someone not in my family or not a doctor, and it feels very foreign in my mouth. Period. It just sounds like you’re talking about classroom stuff instead of a normal bodily function.

“Oh.” Dan turns a couple shades of red. “Oh, wow! I had no idea.”

A very long pause this time.

“So… uh… have you... picked out a name yet?” he asks.

“I’m sticking with the one I have, I think. Probably the one cool part about having my name.”

“Yeah, but now I have to get used to 'her' and 'she'.”

“I would like it if you could, yes,” I look at him, praying that he understands this isn’t really something I have a choice about.

“You're on... man,” he says and smiles at me. I just roll my eyes as he gives me another hug.

***

A couple of days after Dan visited, Meghan shows up with her mom. We make small talk about the food and how courteous the staff was. Meg's mom excuses herself by saying, “I'm going to let you girls get caught up.”

“Gawd,” I say after her mom leaves.

“What?” Meg says with a small chuckle.

“It just feels weird to be included in the phrase ‘you girls’ now.”

“I’d bet. Do you know when you'll be out of here?”

I sigh. “No idea. It’ll probably be several weeks or a month or so until I’m healed. Hopefully I’ll be fully healed by the time school comes around again. Oh MY god, but it is so damn boring in here! If it weren't for books and electronics, I'd probably just be sleeping the whole time.”

“God, that sucks!” she says with a smirk on her face. “So… you’re a girl now?” Her eyes are round with surprise.

“Yeah. From what the doctors said, everything was there, but just… hiding and not working. I had to have surgery last week to make everything work the right way.”

“Oh, wow!” Meg’s eyes are wide in surprise.

“Yeah. Mom even told me some stuff about my real father, like how he wouldn’t let them examine me very closely because he wanted a son and all.”

“Are you freaking serious?”

“I’m serious, Meg. The man was macho as anything from what mom was saying, and didn’t want to _let_ them figure things out. He left a pretty crappy legacy for me, huh?”

“Yeah. God, I’m sorry, Chris. That sucks!”

“I know. I still wish I would have gotten a chance to know him, though.”

“Well… is your stepdad alright? Did he take this whole thing well?”

I nod. “He did, which surprised me a little. Said something like, ‘As long as the kids are healthy, that’s all I care about’.” A smirk came on my face as I tried to keep my emotions in check. “It’s really sweet how much he cares.”

“Well, there you go! Don’t worry about your biological dad, and worry about your actual dad!” she says.

Finally, I have to ask her, “Did you heard about the incident in the bathroom?”

“Are you kidding? All the kids know about it!”

“OH, MY GOD!! Are you serious?!” I start to panic about how disastrous junior high will be with a storm cloud like this hanging over my head!

“Calm down, Chris! Most of them don't know what happened, just that you were taken to the hospital. They don't know you're a girl… not yet, so no worries for now. Dan wouldn’t tell me any details. He said I should ask you what to do because I might understand it a bit better.”

“Oh, thank you Jesus!” I say, relieved.

“So… what happened?”

“Well, this is going to sound crazy, but...” I peer at the doorway to see if anyone else is listening. “...the doctors said my _period_ tried to kill me!”

Her eyes grow wide. “NO! FRICKIN’!! WAY!” she says, amazed. “Are you messing with me? Period?! You can **not** be serious?”

“I’m as serious as those British guards with the fuzzy little hats.”

“Holy crap!” Her hand covers a disbelieving smile as we both laugh like we’ve lost our minds. “You mean to tell me that you got _yours_ before I got _mine?_ What the hell?” she says, staring off for a moment with a grouchy look on her face.

“I don’t know how much of this you really want to hear... but when they got me here, I lost so much blood that I needed a transfusion. They opened me up to see what was going on and there it all was. So… all the girl parts were actually there, but they hadn't started chugging along until then.”

“Omigod! Well, at least that explains the nubbins then."

"Yeah," I say, starting to feel very tired by this point.

“Wow! Oh, you know what this means? We can have sleepovers now and...”

“Meghan!”

“What?” she says. “Oh, come on, you can't tell me that you're not going to need a spirit guide or something here...” Putting on a voice like an airline stewardess, she says “My name is Meghan and I'll be your tour guide for destination Womanhood,” and makes a dinging noise. We both crack up laughing. “So... am I right or what?”.

I roll my eyes. “Geez, Meg. What I really need to focus on right _now_ is healing up and getting out of the hospital. Besides, you already _thought_ I was probably a girl, so being a girl is just like being myself, right? I mean, it can't be _that_ different from how I was acting before…”

Meg stares at me. “Jesus, Chris. You really have zero clue about boys and girls and all of this, do you?”

Upset, I glare at her. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“We’re just different than they are!”

“Wait, now it's 'we' and 'they'? What the hell, Meg? Aren't we all just humans?”

Meg puts her face in her palm, exasperated. “Look… yes, we are. But... there are all sorts of things about being a girl that you don't know about. You're going to have to learn so much stuff, not to mention stuff all girls hear growing up, but...” She stops, closes her eyes and sighs.

“But..?”

“It's a little... hard to explain... But you're right. Right now may not be the best time to deal with it,” she says nodding toward the medical machines next to my bed.

“Listen, Meg. I'm sorry I got upset, but... I don't know exactly what's going to happen when I do finally get out. I'd be more than happy to have sleepovers and stuff and have you show me what's what, if it's all that different. I just...” I lose words from being tired.

“That's okay, bestie.” A slight smile crosses her face. “We'll have plenty of time for all of that.”


	4. Walk of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the decision made to live as what everything tells her is appropriate, Chris starts to deal with the repercussions. Not only does she have to choose classes and get a whole new wardrobe for high school, but she finds herself losing friends.

“For the record, can you tell me a little about yourself? Things like age, history, and so forth.” Dr. Halliday says as she places the tiny audio recorder on the table. We’re in her office, a small but cozy room. I am sitting on a very comfortable couch facing her, with a small end table to my right and her desk shoved in the corner with the monitor facing my left. A little sunlight passes through a small window to my right filtered through a tree.

I nod. “Well... my name is Chris. I'm 12, almost 13 now. I like to read, watch anime and read manga. I have a mom, dad and little sister. And... well, the last few weeks have turned everything I thought I knew about my life upside down.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Sure. About a month ago, I almost bled out from getting what the doctors think was my first period, which I had no way of expecting because I thought I was a boy.” I stop and go into my own thoughts for a moment.

“That had to be scary for you?” she asks me.

“Oh, yeah, it was.” I pause and then blow out some air. “Is all of this recording stuff really necessary, Dr. Halliday? I mean, you and I have talked about this stuff before and I know you write stuff down and...”

“Actually, it is necessary, Miss Martin. Because your case is unusual, I want to make sure that we get as much detail as you feel like giving, especially in your own words.” Miss Martin. What a trip! I sigh.

“Is it really _that_ important?” I ask. Restating everything makes my stomach hurt. Dr. Halliday nods and says it is.

“All right.” I pause for a moment. “Before the bathroom incident, I had wondered...”

“I'm sorry, 'bathroom incident'?”

“Oh, yeah... uh, what happened at school, I mean.”

“With your first period?”

 _Jesus, can we just get away from this now?_ I think to myself. “Um, yeah.”

“Before the bathroom incident,” I continue, “I had wondered why my parents wouldn't buy me the clothes or the types of toys I wanted when I was younger. When I was a child, I would ask for dolls and pretty clothes and when they wouldn’t get them for me, I would pitch a fit. At some point, I just stopped telling them what I wanted since I knew I wasn't going to get it. Except for books and videos, of course. I don't think I could live without those.

“I've always made better friends with girls than boys. Girls are just nicer and listen and talk more about their lives. The teasing from the boys at school had gotten worse in the last year, but I really don't care what those kids think. They're just being mean, is all. It's only been the last couple of years that they've went from name-calling to shoving and threats. I hate it.

“Just before I got here to the hospital, I had started to grow breasts. My friend Meg confirmed that’s what it was a few days before the incident, but I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to talk to anyone else about it until I ended up here.”

“And now that you know about your medical condition?” Dr. Halliday asks me.

“Well, the genetics stuff explains a lot about why I am the way that I am and act the way I do. I'm relieved to finally know what my body is doing. There's a lot of adjusting going on, but at least I understand more of... you know, _why_ instead of being clueless.” She continues to write notes down while I’m talking.

“So, you've decided to live as a girl now?”

“Yeah. I figure if I follow what my body wants and what seems right to me, maybe it’ll make things easier on me? I worry about junior high this fall, though. It's going to be a big enough change to experience without all of this medical stuff going on, too.”

“But you'll be going to school with different kids?”

I nod. “But some of the same kids, too. Fortunately, most of the kids I'm friends with are going to the same place I am, which makes me very happy.”

“Are there any friends in particular you'll be happy to see again?”

“Well, my friend Dan came to visit a few weeks back. My BFF Meg also visited me, but she's in Florida right now visiting her grandmother. I'll be happy to see her again. She says…” I pause and let out a rush of air from my mouth. “Meg says I have to try to learn to _act_ like a girl. I don't even know what that means. I mean, if I'm _already_ a girl and I act a certain way, doesn't that mean that I’m acting like a girl already?”

“Well, I think I know where she’s going with this, although it’s just a guess. There are certain things that you hear growing up as a girl, certain experiences you go through socially that forms what type of woman you'll become. While you may have had some privileges being seen as a boy, some of them may be gone when you first try to exist in society as a girl..”

“Like what?”

“There's an intense focus on how pretty you are. Girls are told not to fight, and are pressured to be less physically active than boys. We're expected to be virtuous and keep the boys in line when they get too rowdy.”

“Rowdy?”

“Like when they pretend to fight or when they _actually_ fight. More often than not, men won't hit a woman, so there's some type of safety in regards to that. There are certain things you'll end up learning from your mother as well as other girls, and other things that you'll have to make sense of on your own. It’s a bit hard to put into words but society has a way of training you to live in your gender role, whether you want to conform to it or not.

“I know all of that sounds negative,” she continues “but if we didn't have a society or culture, then how would we function? What would we do?”

I think for a moment. I shrug and say “Become cavemen?” Dr. Halliday chuckles at that answer.

***

I was in the hospital for 2 months total, but when I was released, they had physical restrictions on what I could do. The bathroom incident happened near the end of May and I was released just as August was beginning. I kept up with friends through social media, but only told a small group of them about what my summer was actually like. If it weren't for technology, I would have felt much more alone than I was.

There were certain people who I thought would be okay with it that weren't. One girl said that I was sinning by living a lie, even after I made the point that this has to do with my body and isn't really under my control. Another girl said she felt uncomfortable with the whole situation, although she didn't go as far as to not talk to me. I worry about whether or not word will get out and if friends who knew me before will accept me now.

The doctors are concerned about me bleeding out the next few months, but – even though it did come after some weeks of healing – my period didn't end up being that bad again that summer. I’m required to see a physical doctor once a month for the next year, so they can keep a check on what’s going on with my body.

***

Mom is driving me home from the hospital after what seems like forever in the hospital. She asks for what feels like the millionth time, “Are you sure that you don't want to use a different name, sweetie? Other kids are going to remember you and… well, they might not be okay with what you’ve had to go through.”

“Mom, no. Look, if they’re _really_ my friends, they’ll be okay with me whether I’m a boy or girl. Second of all, what I’ve went through this summer is totally not my fault; it’s things my body did on its own. Chris is my name and Chris is what I'm going to stay unless I decide differently. It's hard enough being a girl now, and I really don't want to go changing anything else unless I have to, okay?” There is some bite to my voice. I'm so frustrated at having my life turned upside-down and don't want any more change if I can help it.

Mom looks a bit taken aback. “Okay, honey. I just think it would be easier for you at the new school if you went by another name.”

I look out the window, and let out a puff of breath.

“Leave it alone, momma,” I say sternly and go back to studying the scenery outside the car window.

***

When I walk through the door, my little sister Andi exclaims “Chrissy!” and clamps on one of my legs, which brings a chuckle out of me.

“Oh, God! It's still just 'Chris', Andi... and aren't you a little big to be doing this?” I have a half-smirk, half-smile on my face.

“Nope,” she says as she lets go. “Your bag, madam?” She offers her hand out, and I give her the gym bag on my shoulder stuffed with clothes. It’s so heavy that it almost knocks her to the floor.

“Let me show you to your room, madam,” she says in a hoity-toity voice as she turns and marches down the hallway towards our bedrooms.

I shake my head. “Same old Andi,” I say to my parents.

“She really missed you,” my dad says.

“Come oooon!” Andi yells at me from in front of my bedroom door. “You going to leave me hanging, you bozo?” I shake my head again and head over to the doorway to my room.

***

Andi sits on my bed as I begin to unpack the duffel bag, then the larger suitcase that my father has brought in from the car. My backpack, which I thought was in my locker, is in front of my chest of drawers. For a split second, all the memories of that day – what I can remember of it – come rushing back to me. I move the backpack out of the way and throw it in the bottom of my closet. _Nuts to that! Let it stay there until I can deal with it again._

On my laptop, I put on the Doobie Brothers with Michael McDonald on vocals singing about what a fool believes he sees. It's what mom would listen to when I was a little kid when she wanted to relax, and I love how perfect his vocals are.

My eyes spot my guitar in a corner of my bedroom. I really need to get back in the habit of playing it again. I got the guitar when I was 8 years old. After a long stretch of playing it on a regular basis and memorizing the chords and how they sound, I’ve really only played it sporadically the last couple of years. It helps to center me and deal with chaos, which pretty much feels like my whole life at the moment.

As I’m putting my clothes put away, I spot Andi out of the corner of my eye. She is standing on my bed, singing some of the words and playing air keyboard as her head sways back and forth. When I tell her that's more Stevie Wonder than Michael McDonald, she blows a raspberry at me and keeps playing.

I join her at the prechorus and lean over so we're face to face during the falsetto part. I start dancing and I stand next to Andi dancing with me on my bed. I take one of her hands and we boogie our butts off until the song ends.

“You were never this fun when you were my brother!” she says as she plops down butt-first on my bed after the song is over.

“Really?” I wrinkle my nose “Yeah, I guess I wasn't much fun, was I?”

Andi walks toward my bedroom door. “Nah. But at least you don't seem all sad and stuff like you were before.” The next song, “Minute By Minute” comes on. Andi leaves as I continue to put my things away, wrapped up in my own thoughts.

I think about the strangeness of the last few months and the month of summer I have left before junior high starts. The doctors insisted I have a little bit more physical therapy for the next couple of weeks before they'll pronounce me well Enough to not need it. But I still have the psyche sessions with Dr. Halliday, although they will become monthly instead of weekly. It had taken me a while to become accustomed to the tape recorder, but now I just kinda ignore it.

***

After putting up my stuff, I close the door and go to the guitar tabs website again. I’m trying to find that song that Sia sang on that I liked when mom and I were in the car. I find the song, grab my guitar and crimp on the capo. I play C, then G, then Am for a couple of times. I decide to sing along with the mp3, but doing both isn’t working as well as I had hoped.

I stop playing the guitar and focus on her voice. It’s pretty low for a woman’s voice, but I manage to nail the chorus. The first lines of the verses are the hardest part, but I kind of but not quite get it. After going through the song with just my voice a few times, I start strumming the guitar. Once I do this a couple of times, I realize that I have it even if my voice isn’t quite low enough to sing like her yet.

When I’ve figured it out, it’s a little disappointing. I like to envelop myself in the music and let it tell me what to do, although I’m the performer and supposedly the one in control. Once I have it, it’s a little anti-climactic but I also feel pretty accomplished as well. It’s my way of meditating; it helps to center me and leaves me feeling attuned (pardon the pun) to the world and myself.

***

Since I finished _Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_ while in the hospital, I ask mom if we can make a trip to the bookstore so I can get the final novel in the series. Mom says we can go on Saturday, and that we need to do a lot of clothes shopping as well.

“We do?”

“Yes, we need to go through your wardrobe first and see what you have. One thing you may not know about girls your age are the amount of clothes they have. We also need to get you a purse, proper underwear and… you’re going to have to start wearing a bra, but that’s something that we’ll measure you for before we go.”

“Really”?” I turn a little red and my eyes grow wide. “A bra? Oh, geez!”

“Yes, honey. You’re definitely showing through your t-shirts now,” she says glancing at my chest. My face burns with embarrassment and I move my arms to cover the points.

“Chris, honey. This is a normal part of being a young woman. Your breasts are… there and people, especially men, are going to end up looking at them at some point.”

“So… my wanting to die of embarrassment is normal?” I glare at her doubtfully.

“Very much so.” She pauses for a moment.

“Sit with me, honey,” she says, patting the seat next to her. I take a seat down beside her on the couch.

“Are you sure you’re okay with everything that’s been going on with you? It must be very hard to deal with some of the changes that are going on in your life right now.”

After a small pause, I say, “Well… I’m not sure where to begin. Part of me has always thought that girls... well, they have nicer clothing… really pretty clothes… which… I sometimes was jealous about.

“Momma,” I say, turning to her. “I don’t think I’ve ever acted like one of the boys. I didn’t even know how to talk to them very well. The only one who even remotely understands me is Dan, but…” I let out a heavy sigh. “His mother doesn’t seem to think all of this is real. Like we’re playing some type of joke on them both or something.”

Mom’s face reflects my own sadness. “Yes, I tried to explain it to her but she didn’t seem to understand, or didn’t want to understand, I’m not sure which. Would it help if we both went over and talked to her?”

Panic set into me. “Oh, no, no, no, no! I don’t think that would be a good idea. Maybe let things cool off first. I can always message Dan on Facebook if I want to. He’s just seemed a little… weird ever since things changed.” Mom nods and looks like she wants to say something more.

***

“Okay, topic change…” mom says suddenly,” clothing. You know what? I remember when you were a lot younger and we took you shopping. There were many times when you would throw a fit when we wouldn’t get you certain things. So obviously, we can get you whatever you want now.”

I grin and say, “I like the idea of clothes shopping but it just means I have to deal with people and… the thought of being in public scares me a bit.”

“Chris, honey. You’ve had more moments where you acted more like a girl than you remember. Do you remember Mandy Tavares?” mom says with a smirk on her face

I shake my head no. Mom laughs.

“Oh, I wish you could remember her! We met her and her mom a short while before I met Randy. Mandy was convinced that you were a girl, and you two were darn near inseparable when we were living in West Elton! You two seemed to always be looking for trouble.”

“Wait… did she carry a stuffed Garfield around all of the time?” I say, in shock that I can even remember something like that out of the blue.

Mom stops a moment and thinks. “Yes… yes, she did! So you **do** remember?’

“Not really. Just her and her stuffed animal.”

Mom nods and what was left of her smile dimmed. “It was sad how that ended up. Mandy wanted to know for sure, so you two were showing each other your… parts. And that’s about the time her mom walked in and saw you there.”

“Oh, my God! Seriously?!” My jaw drops as I struggle to remember.

Mom nods again and says, “Much like Dan’s mom, Mandy’s mom wouldn’t listen to reason either. A lot of kids do something similar, so you learn to expect it when you become a parent, however,” she says blowing air loudly, “some people just have more issues than a newsstand.”

“I’m sorry. What’s a newsstand?”

She looks at me and laughs. “Sorry, honey. It’s a place where you get newspapers. They’re usually in front of large buildings in larger cities.”

“Oh, okay.” I pause for a second. “That’s really sad about Mandy, though. I wonder if I could find her on social media or something?”

“I don’t know, Chris. Her mom might still not like the idea of you guys talking. If you do find her, she ought to check with her mom before you re-kindle your friendship.” I nod in agreement.

“So… How about Saturday we leave the house about 9:30 and see what we can see?” Mom says smiling.

***

Via private messaging on social media:

 **Dan:** Hey, how are you?

 **Chris:** Okay. Healing sucks. Meg got home this morning!

 **Dan:** Good. What are you doing right now?

 **Chris:** I had been talking to mom about shopping

 **Chris:** Also talking to her about my bio dad.

 **Dan:** Anything interesting?

 **Chris:** Yeah, some weird stuff. I’ll tell you later.

 **Dan:** Oh.

 **Dan:** I need to talk to you about something.

 **Chris:** K You have my attention. What’s up?

 **Dan:** My mom doesn’t want us hanging out anymore.

 **Dan:** She says she doesn’t like that you changed.

 **Chris:** WTF? She knows this is not a choice I’ve made?

 **Dan:** Don’t think she does. I tried to explain but failed.

 **Dan:** She’s upset. She thinks I knew you were a girl, but didn't tell her.

 **Chris:** WTF?

 **Dan:** I can’t have anyone stay the night ‘coz she’s paranoid.

 **Dan:** She wants me to introduce her to friends’ parents when I stay

the night at someone else’s house too.

 **Chris:** *crying emoticon* OMG! That sucks! *hugs*

 **Dan:** I need to go, but mom wanted me to tell you.

 **Chris:** This sucks so badly!

***

Meg comforts me on my bed with a huge, encompassing hug. “Oh, sweetie!” she says. “I’ve got you.” We sit like that for a while and she lets the tears fall, comforting me. When they dry out, she says, “Dan’s mom is just stupid! You shouldn’t worry about what someone like her thinks!”

“Yeah, but Meg… _other_ people are going to feel the same way, too.”

“Then you know what you do? You pretend that you’re Sailor Moon full of bravery. Hold your chin up high because you know darn well who you are, so forget about what some random person thinks.”

I sob then let out a chuckle. “You know ‘Usagi’ means bunny in Japanese?”

“Huh?” Meg says, confused.

“Usagi… that’s Sailor Moon’s actual name.” Meg’s face contorts strangely.

“Then you know what? You be the fiercest, most prettiest rabbit you can be!” She leaps off of the bed and prances in imitation of walking a catwalk, but sticking her teeth out and chittering like a bunny with the most serious expression on her face. I bust out in a gale of laughter, automatically covering my mouth. She puts her fake-bunny-face right up to mine and chitters away some more, making me laugh more. Finally, she can’t hold it in anymore and falls onto my bed, the both of us laughing like loons.

***

Once the laughing trails off, we lay there on the bed next to each other. I’m deep in thought when Meg hops up off of the bed again.

“I want to listen to something fun,” she says. “Any requests?”

“Oh, uh… Have you heard of Cyndi Lauper?”

“No. What song would you recommend?”

“How about ‘When You Were Mine’?”

A few clicks later, we’re transported to 1983. We dance for a few moments, when Meg notices the album cover of “She’s So Unusual” displaying on my laptop. Cyndi Lauper in a red dress and flaming orange hair in stark contrast to the blue house in the background.

“Oh, my God! Please tell me that this song had a music video!” Meg says with a huge smile on her face.

“Well, no. But there was this other video that was pretty good.”

***

The opening synthesizer riff to “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” starts up with a goofy Cyndi in a pink dress and we laugh our asses off as to how dated the video was, but we bop around to the song nonetheless.

When the video ends, Meg asks me, “How do you find this stuff?”

“Oh, I totally got it from my parents. When I was younger – before Andi came along – they would listen to their oldies from the 70’s and 80’s all the time. I just really got into the music. You find some pretty awesome stuff like this...” I motioned to the just-finished music video.

“God, if only folks made music like this nowadays!” This starts us on a huge conversation about what the differences between music back then and now are.

***

Mom warned me that we were going clothes shopping, but she ends up doing so much measuring that I worry she’s fitting me for a coffin instead of clothing. But she says that it’s a necessary part of figuring out what my sizes are.

We measure my chest and mom had calculates that I’m probably a 30A, which in a way surprises me.

“Even with all the measuring, the only way we’ll really know if a fit is for you to try them on in the store.”

“Oh, my God! I have to try on bras in a _store?_ ” Mom nods. “But I don’t **want** to. What if they find out I used to be a boy?”

“Jesus, Chris, how would they even _know_ about that? Between how you look and all you’ve been through, there’s no way anyone can know unless you tell them.” I can’t argue or have a snappy comeback for that. I hate that I seem to have nothing to counter with.

***

The first part of the clothing journey is buying a bra that actually fits my body and could be adjustable as my body changed. I was both looking forward and not looking forward to this. The measuring at home was the easy part, but at Sam’s Bra Shop – which I hoped for their sake “Sam” was short for “Samantha” – they actually measure you _in the store_ but behind curtains.

A woman named Claire, who is a little younger than my mom, met us at a curtained-off changing room and has me disrobe. I again feel embarrassed, but Claire assures me that we’re all girls here, so it’s okay. It only takes a couple of moments to get a more precise measurement, then mom and Claire come back with about half a dozen styles, some of which were ones that mom and I had looked at before the measurement.

Two of them are no-go’s… one I didn’t like, and one mom said didn’t flatter me very much. We end up picking a couple of what mom calls “fancy” ones, and a pack of three that aren’t nearly as fancy, but are more for general use according to Mom.

***

The second stop is the huge chain superstore in our small suburb. Mom and I walk into it and I immediately started to regret it. The place is packed with parents – usually mothers – with their children, and I am petrified that I am going to run into one of my classmates here. There is a huge amount of clothes-shopping to be done during the last two weeks of summer, so it’s no surprise that there are lots of sales. But there is part of me dreading the whole experience of changing in public.

The good part is that I am _finally_ going to be able to get the type of clothes that I’ve always wanted to wear, but mom warned me ahead of time that it’s common to use the changing rooms, especially if you’re not a child. The thought of changing in public freaks me out and makes my stomach hurt.

Mom grabs a cart saying, “Follow me!” and the march is on. There are so many styles, colors and types of clothes that it makes me feel dizzy. I see one top that I know I have to have: a light purple short-sleeved shirt with some wavy white ribbon trim around the openings. It is the prettiest color, and the style is really cute. Mom puts it on the “to try on later” pile, and we move on.

Both mom and I pick out quite a few tops and jeans in various styles. It’s a little hit or miss because I don’t really know what works for me. Mom is some help in matching things together, although I would have much rather had Meg come with me.

As we approach the changing rooms, Mom hands me the stack of clothing and tells me she wants to see how everything fits on me. It is SO nerve-wracking changing where I know other people could hear me; I feel so exposed. I’m afraid my hips are going to chafe from trying on so many pairs of jeans and skirts.

***

As I try on the last pair of the jeans, the dizzy feeling from earlier starts up again, so I sit down on the small shelf in the changing room. I take the opportunity to put the jeans on sitting down and show mom what they looked like on me. She must notice that something is off because she asks if I’m feeling okay after putting my own clothes back on. I said I am okay, but I just need to use the restroom. Mom points where it is, but tells me she can’t come with me because she has the cart full of clothes. I tell her that I should be fine.

I walk to the bathroom a little faster as it hits me what was probably going on. There is even more panic as I go into the stall and open the tiny purse Meg gave to me when I was still in the hospital. Thank God I put a couple of extra pads in my purse! This is only the third time for me, but both Meg and mom given me separate lectures about not being caught short if it happened. I take a moment to breathe and let the panic burn off.

I am in the bathroom in public and have taken care of my personal business, but what if I left the confines of the stall only to be noticed as not really a girl? What if someone yelled out, _“What’s a boy doing in a women’s bathroom?”_ My nerves hit me pretty badly and I find myself frozen in the bathroom out of sheer fear. I text Meg and explain the situation. What do I do when I’m in the bathroom and can’t make myself leave? I am terrified of what would happen.

She texts me back asking what I was talking about. I text her my fears of being found out and she replies with “Remember Sailor Moon and hold your head high. T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!” and an image of a rabbit. I let out a little laugh and again try to steel my resolve.

 _Regardless of what happens, I will be very much okay. I have my best friend and my mother on my side and they love me and care about me and I am Usagi Tsukino the Rabbit Princess,_ I think to myself. I finish my business and slowly turn the lock on the bathroom stall. I wash and dry my hands and start to walk out the door…

...and gracefully walk face-first into the janitor’s cart, knocking me backwards and landing me butt-first onto the floor. The janitor apologizes and said that he was just waiting for the bathroom to be empty so he could clean it. He asks if I can check if it was empty. My panic is still a wild horse in my stomach but he asked me, so I look for a pair of legs under every stall and find them all empty. I stroll out of the bathroom, telling the janitor all was clear, and see my mother in a line to one of the registers.

“Is everything alright?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “My little red alien is visiting.”

“Did you catch it in time?”

“I almost missed him. Why’s he gotta crash like that, though?” I say with a smirk on my face.

***

Just when I was starting to feel tired, mom tells me we have one more stop to make. She stops at one of the malls and wants me to come in with her. As we walk through the doors, she tells me a story from her childhood.

“When I was a child, my mom and dad didn’t get along very well. Just as I was going into High School, they ended up divorcing.”

“You haven’t talked much about it.”

“There are reasons for that, but a lot of what they argued about were things beyond their control. They never really got along.” Mom pauses for a moment. “Dad was a truck driver and was away for days at a time, which bothered mom. At one point, she was threatening to take away his visitation rights. He was afraid that he wasn’t going to be able to be able to visit me for much longer.”

“Ah, here we are!” mom suddenly exclaims and we walk into a jewelry store. It’s very hard to look at all the shiny, pretty baubles and not want to take them all home. I stare wide-eyed at all of the beautiful stones and jewelry around me.

Mom turns to me, “Now, this is _not_ negotiable for me, so don’t even try to refuse it, okay?” A confused look crosses my face. “I recently saw a necklace that was very close to the one my father gave me when I was 14. Even if you may be a bit young for something like this, I wanted to get one for you. Okay?” she asks. I nod in agreement.

The clerk at the counter asks how he can help us, and she points to a small sliver, heart-shaped locket. They talk for a few moments and finally mom puts the locket around my neck. The chain is a bit long – at first the locket completely disappears inside my shirt in front of the new bra I wore out of the shop – but I fish the locket out. It gently hangs down on my chest a bit lower than it probably should. A smile crosses my mom’s face. “Well, she’ll grow into it,” Mom says and pays for it.

As we leave the jewelry store, mom takes a good look at me and fixes a piece of my hair that had strayed in front of my ear. I feel the love in her eyes, and look at her and gave a slanted smirk of a smile. “Yeah, you’re going to be okay, honey,” she says, then takes my hand and leads us both back to the car, and eventually home to the rest of the family.


End file.
